The Dome and the Wind

The dome of that ancient temple speaks to me every night. It is lucky to have a shape that facilitates absorption from both above and below, and retention inside. The sun, moon and stars whisper stories in it ears, changing its look with their movement across the sky.

The dome has seen priests, wily devils and poor, hapless humans all pray inside. A part of it sheds tears every day, with all that it hears and sees. It shares secrets with me, when it can hold no more.

I am the wind that

does not blow it to pieces

but touches it to share

we have been friends throughout

the ages and centuries

Inspired by Secretkeeper at

Weekly Writing Prompt – 92

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